


A Favor

by Luciferous_Lampadomancy



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Fenris Needs a Hug, M/M, im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 11:54:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14260410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luciferous_Lampadomancy/pseuds/Luciferous_Lampadomancy
Summary: An Exploration of Hawke's red favor if he fails to properly romance Fenris





	A Favor

**Author's Note:**

> IM SO SORRY

            Fenris never wanted to belong to anyone, not after the chains that held him down all those years ago. He hated the notion of being restrained, tied down, restricted. Of being a piece of property to be bought and sold whenever those with the money and the power and the magic pleased. It chilled him that despite that, he trusted so easily. Despite all he had been through to rid himself of those chains, he trusted another wielder of the very same magic that ruined him. He followed the one with the red stripe across his nose everywhere, was under his beck and call, and did whatever was asked of him. All under the impression that he was free.

            He wanted, and it sickened him. He wasn’t supposed to want anymore, especially not another mage. It was supposed to be over, what with Danarius now gone, dead, rotting in a shallow grave like he deserved. And yet he still longed for those eyes on him. Longed for the words of praise for doing a good job. Longed for the satisfaction of being chosen to help. Longed for the comfort, security, and confidence that Hawke had. And yet when Merrill comments on his puppy eyes he wants to scream. When Isabella teases his loyalty, he wants to run and never look back. Even when Varric cracks a joke about his brooding, he knows it’s because he’s breaking, and he can’t afford to break.

            And yet, he does. Every second of every day he was stuck thinking about Hawke, about his face, his eyes, his smile, his laugh, his-just _him._ And it drove him mad. Even without Hawke in his presence he wanted him back, he tried to drown out his thoughts with the wine but that only made it worse. It drove him to Hawke’s mansion one night, confessing his desire, and finding Hawke shared the same. The night that followed was absolute bliss, letting him finally relax and taste freedom for the first time. But of course, like everything he ever wanted, it always came with a catch.

            He left the next morning, desperate to get away from the memories being with Hawke brought him. Remembering was too much, Hawke was too much. But he wore his favor, that red cloth wound around his wrist, the desperate plea to Hawke that he could never put into words. It was his reminder that he’d follow Hawke until the day he died. It was a symbol of his love and loyalty to Fenris, one that Fenris now ties every morning, without fail.

            He still tied it even though Hawke doesn’t look his way anymore. It makes his stomach churn to look at it now. It wasn’t a strip of fabric, it was a chain, tying him to a man who he once thought was different. Who he once thought actually cared about him past his abilities and usefulness. It’s a weakness, a failure to himself, and yet every night he never has the courage to toss the strip into the fire, and every morning, he ties it with care onto his wrist. Like a good follower. Like a good slave.

            Eventually the laughter and flirting wasn’t with him. Eventually, the looks he thought were solely for him were directed at her. Eventually, he saw another red strip of cloth he thought meant something was tied securely around her wrist. He should be happy right? That meant that shackle around his own wrist was broken. Or was it welded completely shut, unable to come off?  Loyalty in his freedom lead him nowhere, nowhere asides back where he started. Wandering without any connections, without any tie down, without any shackles.

            All he had now was that red stripe that years later would still be tied round his wrist. Hawke doesn’t call on him anymore, and Fenris hasn’t seen him since that fateful day in Kirkwall. He ran and never looked back. But that damned favor is still there when he receives a letter from Varric, tied with a red ribbon of all things. He finds it heart-wrenchingly ironic that the person it tells him is gone is the only reason he can read it. Brutally fitting that the only reason he can now rip the cloth from his wrist is because the person that held the leash is now dead. And absolutely disgraceful that he feels like it’s his own heart that’s been ripped from his chest.

            Fenris never wanted to belong to anyone, never to a magister and never to a mage.

Now, it was what he wanted more than anything.


End file.
